Without the Darkness There Is No Light
by Riley Berg
Summary: Astrid, a friend of Clint & Natasha's, is pulled into a unsuccessful mission with the Avengers, only to find her dagger pressed against Loki's stomach. But Loki wasn't the one they were looking for. With a more eventful future ahead of them, & Thor once again forced to cooperate with his brother, things will be interesting. Especially with Astrid near, now that she's Loki's warden.
1. Prologue: In the Beginning

**Full Summary:** Astrid Quimby is acquainted with Natasha Romanoff: Black Widow and Clint Barton: Hawkeye. She is pulled into the world of the so-called Avengers and becomes involved in a mission that ends without much in the way of success, but when they find Loki instead of what they are looking for, things will become more interesting. Astrid is made Loki's warden and the Avengers are forced into cooperation with the fallen prince. But there is more to Astrid than meets the eye. Why does she exchange nostalgic looks with Dr. Selvig while they work? Why does Thor immediately take her under his wing as his little sister? And why does Loki seem not only familiar with her, but allows her a more equal standing than he does anyone else? [established Tony x Pepper and Thor x Jane, developing Clint x Natasha, Loki x OC friendship… or is it? ;) Takes place after Avengers, Iron Man 3, Thor 2, and Cap 2, but before—if only by a little—Avengers 2]

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Disclaimer: THIS APPLIES TO THE ENTIRE WORK, duh! I do not own any characters or concepts from the Marvel universe, any other recognizable content, or the cover photo. All credit goes to their creators and owners. This _is_ a fan fiction, after all. That's how it works. I do own my OCs and plot, etc. Please respect that.

A/N: I was so excited for my reviews and new favoriters and followers when I decided to continue! Thank you for your support! I don't have an editor to help me catch spelling mistakes or stylistic issues or give me another perspective on the plot and characters and dialog and relationships, etc., so I love it when my readers review or PM me with suggestions and edits, etc. **I hate to ask you to reread old chapters, but I did do some remaking of the beginning of the story, significant enough that it warrants rereading, so if you read the original posting of the story, please reread it from the beginning. Sorry!**

Here is the added prologue:

_Without The Darkness There Is No Light_

Prologue

In the Beginning

Tony Stark was a man of no small means or reputation. He called himself a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, and although not all of those epithets were once true or remained true, they were quite accurate in defining him for the multifaceted person he was.

His tower in New York City was almost as large as his ego, though it no longer bore his name in large, brightly lit letters high in the sky as it once did. It still afforded a wonderful view of the Empire State Building and the rest of New York City's wonders, but after the succinct but destructive battle with the Chitauri, Pepper and he had rebuilt the penthouse floors with his new team members in mind. Only the "A" from his name had remained in the damage, and they had decided to let it remain that way as a sign of the Avengers, his new team and the victors of the battle.

Of course, everyone had gone their separate ways after a particularly quiet meal of shawarma and a much needed, long, restful night's sleep, so the newly renovated floors had gone mostly unused. Virginia "Pepper" Potts, the Chief Executive Officer of Stark Industries and his would-be girlfriend, technically lived there, though Tony knew she kept her own condominium somewhere in the vicinity as well, so he always had company. His friend James Rhodes, whom he generally referred to as "Rhodey," was a frequent visitor after their adventures together two years previous.

Dr. Bruce Banner, a nuclear physicist who knew everything there was to know about gamma radiation, was the only member of the team—the Avengers—that had spent any time in their newly designated tower and headquarters. He had a brilliant mind, and Tony liked that. Though their fields of expertise and personalities were remarkably different, they got along surprisingly well.

Bruce never had anywhere to go. He was one to find himself lost in Indonesia or working as a sorry excuse for a doctor in some poor city in a developing country. And so, with nowhere to go, he went to the Tower. Of course, he came and went as he always had, but Tony—under the direction of a concerned Pepper—always made sure he was provide for.

None of the other teammates contacted him, but they had no need to. Tony kept his eye on the news, and whatever illegally-obtained information he could find, and so he knew, or suspected, of the adventures they had had since their parting. Of course, he had had his own adventures not more than a year after the battle against the Chitauri. There was some excitement in England that involved Thor some months after that. About a year before he received the call from Jane Foster, SHEILD had gone dark. There was no more top-secret information to hack into, no databases via which to keep track of Agents Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and Steve Rodgers—though there had been little to no information on them anyway. But before that there was a lot of action on the Eastern seaboard, and Tony knew that at least one of them was involved.

But something was happening yet again, and it might have required more than just one or two of his friends to eliminate the threat—if that was what it was. Erik Selvig was the one who discovered it. Tony wondered why Selvig was so frequently involved, but was begrudgingly, though silently, grateful for his expertise. An anomaly which seemed reminiscent of the incidents leading to Thor's first arrival on Earth and the convergence—that's how Dr. Selvig refered to the incident in Greenwich—was on their metaphorical radar. What worried them the most was that it was also similar to the signature given by the Tesseract.

Bruce went to join Selvig and Foster to see if he could be of any use. Thor had already left for Asgard to see if he could find any information there. It was left to Tony to reach the other members of the team. He called in Rhodey first, though he was not technically a member of the team, "Yet," Tony added in his mind. Steve Rodgers preferred his privacy, and kept it well, so Tony did not know how to contact him, though he was sure that with a little digging he would unearth something. Natasha Romanoff was impossible to contact. But Tony knew how to get ahold of Clint Barton. So that's where he started, hoping that Clint would have more information on Steve or Natasha's whereabouts.

Clint reluctantly joined Tony at the Tower. Thor had yet to return to the realm and Bruce was still with the scientists studying the nature of the anomaly. The good news was Clint knew how to contact Natasha, though he had admitted it begrudgingly. Tony still held hope that Natasha would in turn know how to find the quiet Steve.

All Clint had to do was convince Natasha to join them—a task far easier said than done. Perhaps the trick was not convincing her at all. Of course, Natasha was a master spy herself, so she would be suspicious of _anything _Clint said or did. Even contacting her was dangerous.

But perhaps there was another way. With a smile, Clint Barton pulled out his phone—_one_ of his phones—and methodically dialed a phone number. It would defeat the purpose to input it into his electronic phone book, so he had memorized it instantly upon receiving it. He placed the phone to his ear. It rang only once before the line clicked on. She must have known it was him.


	2. Chapter 1:Gathering

A/N:

I was so excited for my reviews and new favoriters and followers when I decided to continue! Thank you for your support! I don't have an editor to help me catch spelling mistakes or stylistic issues or give me another perspective on the plot and characters and dialog and relationships, etc., so I love it when my readers review or PM me with suggestions and edits, etc.

**I hate to ask you to reread old chapters, but I did do some remaking of the beginning of the story, significant enough that it warrants rereading, so if you read the original posting of the story, please reread it from the beginning. Sorry!**

Here is the new and improved chapter one:

_Without The Darkness There Is No Light_

Chapter One

Gathering

I look down at the inexpensive mobile phone in my hands. It is empty of data except for the last outgoing call: thirty-one seconds long, to an unnamed number. I was right. It is time to go. Even _they_ are aware that something is about to happen.

"Natasha!" I open her door without knocking. "Natasha, we're going on a trip."

I pull a bag from under the old bed pushed into a corner of her room and toss it at her. She swivels in her chair in time to catch it.

"Where are we going?" she inquires evenly, accustomed to my antics.

"Family reunion."

I leave the room without further explanation and step across the hall to my own room. It is almost mirror image of Natasha's: narrow, with barely enough room for a bed and drawers. Natasha's is a little larger, with a second window and enough room for a simple computer desk.

I fling myself onto my bed and shake my head in exasperation as the mattress groans. I am certain it is disgustingly old. I sigh, knowing that I cannot delay much longer now that I have put Natasha into motion. Reluctantly, I rise from the old bed and its worn blankets and open my small closet. The wood door sticks a little, but I manage to wrestle it open and grab the packed backpack from the floor.

A single set of clothes remains in the closet. Carefully, I pull on the unassuming black skirt and simple, dark gray shirt and arrange my long black hair into a humble knot at the back of my head. I let my necklace—a silver chain with a black sphere pendant—remain hidden in the folds of the cowl neckline of my shirt. I don't bother applying cosmetics or wearing other jewelry; my gray eyes attract enough attention despite my simple appearance, and I don't need any more attention than necessary.

Natasha remains in her room when I exit. I note that her bag remains unpacked.

"Where are we going?" she asks again.

"Family reunion," I repeat, not showing my exasperation in my tone. Natasha is not one for obedience, and I am accustomed to that, but it is sometimes inconvenient.

"Too vague."

I look at her, considering. Of course she cannot know the truth yet. She will be uncooperative if she does, but I doubt any lie I tell will result in her cooperation either. She is trying to disappear, not go back to America.

I sit next to her where she has moved to the bed. "I wish you would have packed."

With a swift movement, I put her to sleep.

Glad for the immediate effect, I lay her gently on the bed and begin packing her bag. Her possessions are as meager as mine, so everything fits easily. With my backpack slung over one shoulder and her bag in my other hand, I exit the building. A black car with dark windows waits in front. A man in a black suit and gray silk shirt takes the bags and places them in the trunk while I walk slowly to the townhouse at the end of the building and slip an envelope its mailbox. The envelope lands with a quiet thud, weighed down by the keys. The enclosed check is more than enough to pay for the emptying of our townhouse and an additional month of rent and utility charges, but if he does not deposit it soon, the account will have disappeared.

Sliding the back off of the mobile phone, I toss the battery into the dumpster on my way back. Destroying the memory hardware, I throw the remainder of the phone into the dumpster as well. By the time I return, the driver has carried Natasha into the car. I slide in beside her, making sure to secure her seatbelt just in case.

"Drive," I instruct once we are settled in.

The driver silently obeys. He needs no directions; he already knows our destination.

We drive to the airport, and bypass the usual route in order to drive onto the tarmac. A large plane with the word "Stark" painted on it in ostentatious letters waits for us in a private corner of the airport grounds. I groan. I have never met the man, but already I know I will either loathe him entirely or absolutely love him, and I think it is going to be the former.

The driver pulls up to the lowered stairs and opens my door, but I wave him away. I do not need assistance stepping out of a car. Obediently he leaves me alone and takes our bags from the trunk, handing them to a flight attendant as I walk to Natasha's side of the car and open her door. I unbuckle her seatbelt, but the driver interrupts me before I do anything further, insisting that he carry her onto the plane.

I nod my agreement and board the plane ahead of them. The plane is comfortably furnished with large seats and bolted-down tables and, it appears, a few private rooms in the back. I recline a chair for Natasha, and it lays almost flat. Satisfied, I stand up and allow the driver to lay Natasha in the designated chair. He hesitantly buckles her in, and I seat myself beside her and indicate to the stewardess that we are ready to leave.

The wait for our turn on the runway is short, but the plane ride feels eternal. Another dark car and suited driver wait for us at our arrival airport, and he does the same for us as the other driver did. Soon, we are on the busy streets of New York, heading for the Tower.

I cannot refrain from staring as we approach our destination. Everything the man does is ostentatious. The driver pulls into a parking garage beneath the building and stops in front of a set of elevators. After opening my door and retrieving our bags from the trunk, he informs me that he cannot go up with us.

"Would you like me to call for someone to carry Ms. Romanoff?"

"No, I can manage," I assure him.

With a doubtful look, he hands me two thick cards, one on a black cord and one on a dark purple one. I raise my eyebrows but say nothing.

"The purple one is yours, Miss Quimby, and the other is Ms. Romanoff's. She has been assigned an apartment. The left elevator will take you to your destination, but you will need to scan one of your cards for access."

I put on my backpack and sling Natasha's bag over my shoulder before carefully picking her up off the seat. She is heavier than her appearance suggests, but I manage to carry her weight easily. Shifting her in my arms, I call the elevator by sliding my card against the scanner and pressing the up button. Though I can manage her weight, the awkwardness of a sleeping human body is limiting the dexterity needed to operate the elevator commands.

I look behind to see the car leaving and realize he never told me the floor and number of Natasha's apartment. I glance at the dark-clothed security guard standing nearby and wonder if he knows. The elevator arrives with a soft chime. When I step in, I notice there are no buttons to indicate the destination floor.

"Welcome, Miss Quimby," greets a disembodied voice with a British accent. "What is your destination?"

I laugh quietly. Of course Tony Stark would not have something as old fashioned as buttons.

"We are going to Ms. Romanoff's apartment," I inform it, hoping it does not need the specific floor number.

"Yes, Miss Quimby."

Much to my relief, the elevator begins to move upward instantly and another soft chime announces our arrival at our destination floor.

"Have a good day, Miss Quimby."

"Thank you," I reply automatically as I step into the small room off the elevator. It is only a hundred or a hundred and fifty square feet, meant to serve as a landing or hallway for the single door in front of me. There is a doorknob and a lock and a peephole just like a normal apartment door, and there is even a doorbell button next to it. Another card scanner rests below the doorbell and I wonder if I am allowed entry.

I scan my card once again awkwardly as I hold Natasha. The lock clicks open and I am able to push the door open easily. It opens up to a large room that includes a well-equipped kitchen, large dining room table, and well-furnished living room. A hallway meets the living room and I walk down it with Natasha still in my arms, searching for a bedroom to place her in. The first door on the left reveals a large but simply decorated room suitable for Natasha.

I gently lay her on her bed and drop her bag onto the floor of the large closet. After making certain that the bathroom is equipped with the proper supplies, should Natasha want to freshen up upon waking, I leave her room and close the door quietly behind me.

Returning to the elevator, I instruct in to take me to "Mr. Barton's apartment." The ride is short—their apartments are one atop the other. The elevator opens to a similar landing and I knock on the single door. It opens at my touch, so I walk in.

"Where's Natasha?" I hear an unfamiliar voice inquire.

"Still asleep," I answer the stranger as I enter the living room.

I take the two steps down into the room. Clint sits on a couch, his back to me. The dark-haired stranger reclines on another couch, a piece of technology in one hand as he looks up at my entry. He may be a stranger to me, but I am sure everyone knows his face. He is Tony Stark, self-proclaimed billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist (not that he has never lived up to that reputation).

Without turning around, Clint inquires, "You didn't overdo it, did you?"

I glare at the back of his head. "Of course not. If you need her now, I can wake her up. She will be perfectly fine—no grogginess or aftereffects—but I thought it wisest, considering her recent restlessness, to allow her her natural sleep. Unless you want to deal with her sooner. She will not be happy when she wakes, and you know it."

"You drugged her?" the Tony asks, clearly amused.

Both Clint and I look up at him. Tony looks mischievously handsome with that smirk. Not that I am unaccustomed to handsome company. Or mischievous company, either. But perhaps we will be more inclined towards friendship than animosity.

"I was under orders," I justify, though I did not drug her.

Clint turns around to give me a chastising look.

"Any means necessary." I raise my eyebrows, inviting an argument.

But Clint remains silent, knowing that this time I am right. He returns to the proper position on the couch and with a sigh I walk over to Tony Stark.

"We haven't been introduced." I offer him my hand. "Astrid Quimby."

He stands and shakes my hand. "Tony Stark."

I refrain from laughing. He needs no introduction.

"Clint says your talents lie in areas similar to him and Natasha."

It is not a question, but I answer anyway. "One can say that, yes," I smile slightly.

"You are welcome to stay here," replies Tony, and I am uncertain whether it is a change of subject or if my supposed talents bought me entry.

"I was hoping you would say that," I smile, genuinely now.

Tony dismisses himself. I turn to Clint.

"When will she wake up?" he asks immediately

"Hopefully not until the morning. Early, certainly. Four or five, maybe three, maybe six. She should have enough time to yell at us, work off some of her anger at the gym—oh, is there a gym here?" I silently chastise myself. Of course there is a gym nearby, this is New York.

Clint nods. "A few floors down."

"_In_ the tower? He doesn't forget anything, does he?" I sigh. I might inadvertently be spoiled by Tony. "But that is convenient. Hopefully she will be mostly returned to her normal self by breakfast. You can always let her take it out on me. But for safety sake, I think I'll sleep _here_ tonight."

%%%

Around two-thirty in the morning, I quietly open Clint's bedroom door and sneak out. He had severe nightmares last night, but I have kept him calm until now. He should be fine until morning.

I make my way to the living room, dimly lit by the city lights. I walk to the glass wall and look at the city, bright against the blackness of a starless night.

At four o'clock in the morning, I disappear into the bedroom Clint lent me and fall onto the bed, wondering how much rest Natasha will allow Clint and me this morning.

Not much, but more than expected. She has yet to interrupt my "sleep," but she must understand on whose orders I brought her here, because she came downstairs to yell at Clint at six o'clock. This does not mean she will not reprimand me later, however.

I refrain from laughing—but cannot withhold a smile—when she complains about the late hour at which she woke. She is accustomed to changing guard at approximately four o'clock in the morning. Clint dismisses it as jet lag, although he knows—because I told him—that her sleep was timed to reset her body to this time zone immediately.

I am grateful that Clint tempts Natasha with a sparring match, though I know I will have to treat his wounds after. I am not in the mood for one of Natasha's self-righteous talking-to's. Do not misunderstand me; I love Natasha, and she has many justifications for her confidence and conceit, but sometimes she forgets that she is only human. And I am not a child.

Natasha does not return with Clint, so I assume she spent her anger on him or has other plans for my punishment. With a little coaxing, I manage to seat Clint on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. I find the first aid kit under his bathroom sink and preliminarily tend to his wounds. With the exception of a small cut, he suffers from nothing more than sore muscles and a few tender spots that will eventually manifest as bruises. His knuckles are cracked in a few places and blood taints his saliva, but that is his own fault for not wrapping his hands or wearing a mouth guard. When I am satisfied, I allow him to take a shower. A simple bandage suffices for his cut once he comes clean and wet-haired from his room.

Clint leaves after his shower and treatment, apologizing for waking me. Though I was not asleep, he does not know that. Obligingly, I return to my borrowed bed and lay in thought and meditation until nine, when I slip off the bed and change clothes. I will need to acquire several books or other means of entertainment and edification for my nights—or early mornings—here.

"Miss Quimby."

I startle at the unexpected voice. It is the same disembodied, accented voice as in the elevator.

"Mr. Barton asked that I inform you that leftover breakfast is waiting for you upstairs."

"Oh," I reply uncertainly, but head for the elevator.

After rising several floors, the elevator opens to reveal a large, open room. The smell of breakfast wafts to me as I observe my surroundings. My eyes are drawn to the other occupants of the room. Natasha is not present, but Clint is. He sits on a dark couch next to Tony, with whom he is discussing something apparently all-consuming. A woman with light red hair sits next to Tony. She looks up and smiles at me as I step into the room. I politely return her smile and make my way towards the remainder of breakfast.

I observe the other person in the room, who stands against the bar where breakfast is laid out for the taking. His height is insignificant and probably similar to Tony's, but he is dark and admittedly handsome, though perhaps in an odd way—he might not be the visage of modern handsomeness, but _I_ think he looks nice.

"Ah, Astrid," Tony calls.

Apparently his female companion was finally able to alert him to my presence. I look up from my plate.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" I inquire politely.

"I thought I would introduce you to a few people before we go our separate ways for the day." He stands. I look at the woman to his left. "Ah, yes, this is Pepper. Potts," he adds. "She's the CEO of Stark Industries," he explains.

I raise my eyebrows. Surely she is more to him than that. But he adds nothing before turning to the dark-haired man in the chair.

"And this is Rhodey," he gestures. I nod.

The man walks over to me and respectfully extends his hand. "James Rhodes, ma'am."

"He's a colonel," adds Tony from somewhere behind him.

I smile at Tony's antics, but keep my attention on Rhodes. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Astrid Quimby, an… associate of Clint and Natasha's. I was… invited—"

"Told," Rhodes corrects for me.

I smile knowingly. "To stay, given the circumstances." I lean forward a little and lower my voice to a mock whisper, as if sharing a secret. "Though I do not know what that circumstance is."

Tony, apparently depraved of attention, interrupts us with, "You already met JARVIS, I believe."

I tilt my head in confusion.

"Our resident A.I.—artificial intelligence. He is like my digital butler. He is the one who gave you Clint's message to meet us here."

"Ah," I indicate my understanding. "Now I know what to call him."

Tony nods to the plate in my hand. "We'll let you return to your breakfast now."

He returns to the couch and resumes his conversation with Clint. Pepper is distracted by a piece of technology I assume to be Stark Tech. Rhodey—for I quite like that nickname—leaves after a few minutes. When I finish my breakfast, Pepper rises from her seat and walks confidently over to me.

"You're new in town, right? I would love to show you around, maybe we can go shopping; Natasha mentioned you two didn't bring much with you."

"Oh," I begin lamely. "That would be wonderful. The sight-seeing part. I don't need to go shopping."

Pepper slides her arm around mine, linking us by our elbows, and gently pulls me toward the elevator. "Oh, I insist. My treat."

I watch her, confused, in my peripheral vision. I have experienced many different reactions to my presence, and fortunately most of them were in my favor, but I have never had a woman so immediately take me to her side as a friend.

After fussing over my pale but "flawless" skin and the length of my hair and forcing me into several pairs of designer clothes, Pepper Potts finally declares that it is time to go "home." Silently I wonder if Tony instructed her to take me shopping. He has an image to maintain. He probably does not want to be seen with a poorly dressed young woman such as me.

Not that I am unappreciative of the clothing. In fact, I love it. Unfortunately, I have become accustomed to nondescript styles, as is conducive to staying in hiding. And I am unaccustomed to accepting gifts without the attached intentions that are far less fine than the present offered.

But it seems Pepper's intentions are pure. Perhaps she needs a girl friend to spend these sort of days with.

%%%

As soon as we return to the Tower, Natasha captures me. With an apologetic smile, Pepper leaves me with the assassin and disappears into the elevator.

"We are going on a trip," Natasha informs me.

I do not bother asking where we are destined or why. If only to repay me for my earlier vagueness, she will not tell me. I follow her to a sleek black car and slip into the passenger seat. The vehicle has an expensive appearance, leading me to believe it to be Tony's. The engine is probably high quality as well. I hope Natasha does not make use of its speed. Or, rather, I hope she does not have to.

With surprising ease, she navigates through the city and to the highway. She maintains a speed similar to our fellow travelers, presumably in order to avoid detection. I watch the road signs as they indicate our slow retreat southward.

Washington, D.C. is beautiful, though I suspect I would feel more inclined to kill than befriend most of those who work there. Natasha drives to several famous locations, but does nothing more than slow down and observe them closely through her dark sunglasses before moving forward.

Finally, we stop in front of an apartment building. Natasha sits calmly in her seat as I wonder whether or not we will disembark at this location.

"Get out. Stand guard," she instructs simply before exiting the vehicle.

Obediently, I unlatch my safety belt and open the door. I watch her disappear into the building as I lean against the car, appearing bored while truly observing my surroundings with every applicable sense and ability.

Natasha returns with a man. He is tall and broad-shouldered and wearing a shearling flight jacket that belongs to the world war era—yet he manages to make it look good even while wearing simple jeans. He and Natasha are still in conversation as they approach. He runs his hand through his hair, which is somewhere between blonde and brunette, and sighs in resignation. I do not get the impression that he is unwilling to come with us, but that he is worried about why he must. I cannot blame him for that.

"Steve," Natasha addresses the man as they stop by my side of the car, "this is Astrid Quimby. She will be staying at the Tower as well."

I take Steve's proffered hand in a handshake.

"Steve Rodgers, ma'am," he introduces himself properly, though I can see he is more interested in learning about me than offering information about himself.

I smile. If I have my way, his curiosity will be only mildly satisfied, but he will know no better. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out soon enough," I assure falsely as I step back to allow him access to the front passenger door.

I catch Natasha rolling her eyes as she seats herself behind the steering wheel. Steve stares at me, a little surprised. I shrug. "Natasha wore off on me."

After a short argument, which I win, Steve is seated in the front seat and a sit behind Natasha. She instructs me to brief Steve on the circumstances of our gathering at the Tower.

"Natasha," I complain, "I do not _know_ why we are gathering at the Tower."

She glances at me in the rearview mirror.

"Well, you did not allow Tony time to tell you, and you were too busy sparring with Clint to receive any useful information. Did you think that they would tell _me_ if they had not told _you_?"

Natasha refrains from it, but I can see that she wants to sigh. I smile widely. I suppose I am acting childish, but sometimes I do not know how to act. She says nothing.

"Okay," I concede, turning to Steve. "I cannot divulge specifics that I do not have, but it would seem that something has come to the attention of Tony Stark, something concerning, and that has led him to begin gathering you all. I think I heard mention of a meeting." I look out the window. It is dark outside. "I suppose it will be tomorrow morning now. I'm sure Mr. Stark will explain everything."

I retrieve the Stark phone Pepper forced on me this morning. There is a text message from Tony inquiring where we disappeared to. I avoid specifics, but answer that we "went to pick something up." He does not reply, so I volunteer the fact that we will be returning late and call for a meeting in the morning. He sends a simple acknowledging reply and I return the phone to its hiding place.

With nothing else to do, I close my eyes and fall into meditation, ignoring Natasha's odd attempt at conversation with Steve.


	3. Chapter 2: Revelations

A/N:

I was so excited for my reviews and new favoriters and followers when I decided to continue! Thank you for your support! I don't have an editor to help me catch spelling mistakes or stylistic issues or give me another perspective on the plot and characters and dialog and relationships, etc., so I love it when my readers review or PM me with suggestions and edits, etc.

**I hate to ask you to reread old chapters, but I did do some remaking of the beginning of the story, significant enough that it warrants rereading, so if you read the original posting of the story, please reread it from the beginning. Sorry!**

Here is the new and improved chapter two:

_Without The Darkness There Is No Light_

Chapter Two

Revelations

The next morning, Tony, Rhodey, Clint, Natasha, Steve, and I are seated around a conference table somewhere in the middle of the Tower. Tony explains the situation and what he knows so far as I listen silently. Natasha and Steve ask questions occasionally, but it seems Rhodey and Clint were already briefed. Their companions Thor and Bruce Banner are away searching for further information.

Honestly, they know little. There is an anomaly in their scientists' readings that is reminiscent of other dealings they have had with beings from other realms, and considering the destruction that accompanied their other encounters, they are justifiably anxious. But they have yet to determine exactly what the disturbance is, what is causing it, or even where it is at. The gathering of the Avengers is a precaution rather than a reaction, but it is wise.

The assembled company speaks for a moment on others they might call on, though it seems from their sad faces that many comrades have fallen or, at least, fallen out of contact. Clint, Natasha, and Steve determine to find a woman named "Maria," but I am no longer paying careful enough attention to glean further information.

%%%

In the next few days, I establish a routine. Breakfast, lunch, and supper are always available in the common room, where I ate breakfast my first morning. Not everyone eats at the same time, but by evening everyone is usually settled and we sometimes spend the waning hours all together.

Clint and Natasha train with me before breakfast and after our stomach settle after lunch. Sometimes Steve joins us as well. I spend time with Pepper learning about the city and my new companions. I spend the rest of my time bugging the other so-called Avengers and reading. I have yet to see Thor, but he should return soon. Bruce will remain with the other scientists.

The signs that led us to gather have have disappeared, but that makes me more nervous than reassured. With these thoughts, I ride the elevator toward breakfast one morning after a long shower. The common room is in commotion when I step off the elevator. I quickly ascertain that it is a good type of commotion. Everyone is wearing smiles and exchanging banter. A tall, broad-shouldered man with shoulder-length blonde hair stands with his back to me. I smile.

Tony sees my entry and waves me over. "Astrid!"

The blonde man turns towards me as I approach them.

Before the taller man can say anything, Tony introduces, "Thor, this is Astrid Quimby, our newest addition."

I raise an eyebrow at Tony before turning to Thor with a secretive smile. "It's nice to meet you."

%%%

"What's wrong with Thor?" I whisper to Pepper, watching the blonde-haired man fidget uncharacteristically.

"Jane Foster," she replies simply. "She's his girlfriend of sorts. She's coming here."

"And he is nervous?" I ask incredulously.

"I think he's anxious for her safety. She's an astrophysicist. Her and her team detected an anomaly or something, and they're coming here to make use of our Stark Tech. Apparently it's more difficult to track than ones in their previous experience. He worries it's a sign of trouble and doesn't want her in the middle of it."

I nod. It is understandable. Of course Pepper does not know the entire extent of the situation, but she knows enough to sympathize.

"When will she arrive?"

"She's supposed to come today."

"Mr. Stark," addresses JARVIS, "Ms. Foster and company have arrived."

Tony looks up from the glass-top table he and Bruce have been intently studying. "Send 'em up."

Thor watches the elevator intently and I try to hide a smile. He is usually so strong and sure of himself, arrogant even. It is adorable to see him anxious, though I have no doubt he would put his life into protecting her if needed. Thor is like that. He adopted me as his little sister almost immediately upon meeting me, so I have seen his more tender side.

The elevator doors open, revealing a rather short but beautiful brunette with wondrous eyes. She quickly observes the room as she steps off the elevator, her eyes ultimately landing on Thor. She smiles at him, but does not move further. Another woman of similar hair color and height steps out of the elevator behind her and nudges her in the arm.

"Jane," Thor greets, and the first woman takes that as permission to enter the room further.

The second woman watches her with an amused expression as a tall, older man walks from the elevator to her side. Thor nods to the man in greeting, and I notice everyone else looks at him with recognition. I tilt my head at the older man. He is familiar, though he was younger when last I saw him. He is tall—as tall as Thor, or approximately so—and very intelligent. He was quirky when last I knew him, and the lopsided smile on his face indicates he never outgrew that.

"Dr. Selvig," Clint greets.

I watch Erik closely. At some point he is going to notice me, and I will have to act before he can say anything suspicious. The two men talk for a moment as Thor and Jane do the same. The elevator opens again to reveal a man with dark, messy hair. He lets himself blend into the wall.

"I believe introductions are in order," Thor finally announces, stepping away from Jane and looking around the room.

Everyone looks up, some expectantly, others distractedly.

"This is Jane Foster," Thor gestures to his lady. "Darcy Lewis." Darcy waves from where she has sunk into one of the comfortable couches. "And Erik Selvig." He continues around the room, introducing the newcomers to the other Avengers and Pepper and Rhodey, who are all gathered together this morning. I notice that he does not introduce the dark-haired man leaning against the wall by the elevator. I assume everyone except myself knows who he is, which must mean he is Bruce Banner.

"And this is Astrid," Thor wraps an arm around my neck playfully and I smile at Jane.

Erik makes eye contact with me for a moment, but does not betray his intelligence by saying anything before calling Thor over. With a short apology the Asgardian leaves Jane and I alone.

"I am his younger sibling rebound," I laugh lightly as I turn to Jane with my hand extended. It is not entirely accurate, but that is the excuse I have used to explain Thor's apparently instantaneous attachment and brotherly affection.

"Astrid Quimby," I introduce myself again. She shakes my hand. "I have been looking forward to meeting you," I smile.

She looks at me curiously, but smiles genuinely. "We will have to become acquainted then, but I think Erik and Darcy need me at the moment."

"Of course. You are here on business."

Jane joins her companions and after a moment, Tony leads them to the elevator, presumably to a room for their work. Thor returns to my side.

"So?"

I laugh. His mother gave Jane the ultimate approval; I don't see why he needs my input as well. "Your little sister approves," I assure him.

I watch him curiously as he leaves. Though our friendship was established long ago—long before either of us were involved with the Avengers—he has attached himself to me quite solidly since our meeting here. It must be due to the loss of his mother and the supposed loss of his brother.

I felt it when Frigga died. My heart was torn in two. But I was surprised to hear of Loki's death. He is not really dead, of course. If he had died, I would know. I debated whether or not to tell Thor, but as mischievous as Loki's schemes usually are, my information gathering shows that Loki's life is in danger. Playing dead will hopefully delay whatever tortures await him. That is the curse of immortality. Those who seek his life will not succeed in ending it, but being brought to the edge of Hel will not be a comfortable experience. I sigh. Our mothers' scheming is for naught with all that has ensued since mine's death and then my fall from Asgard. Oh how I miss them both.

%%%

"Ever been to the Rockies?" inquires Tony casually as he walks into Natasha's apartment unannounced.

I look up at him annoyed, but Natasha ignores his presence. Clint graces him with a glance.

"Well, don't everyone answer at once," Tony continues flatly.

He takes a seat next to me on the couch, and I have to quickly move my legs to prevent him from sitting on them. I glare at him as he makes himself comfortable and then place my feet on his lap to prove that he did not inconvenience me. He gives me a strange look out of the corner of his eye but says nothing on the matter.

"Jane and Erik and Bruce"—I confirmed that that is the name of the wallflower scientist that brought Jane and company to the Tower—"say that the readings are still unstable, but it has remained in the same location rather than bouncing around as it did before. Considering all the havoc ensuing after other similar events, the others think it is best to go to the source and meet whatever it is head-on. You in?"

"When do we leave?" Clint answers.

"As soon as we finish packing," Tony answers as he pushes my legs off his laps and stands. "You are invited as well, Astrid. Thor was against the idea, but I think that is his protectiveness rather than any doubt of your abilities. Everyone else agreed. Erik is going as well. Thor convinced Jane and Darcy to stay behind."

I smile at the thought of Thor's protectiveness. He of all people should know I have little need for it, but I expect that will never stop him. He is, after all, my brother, even if we have no blood relation. I am, however, a little worried about Erik. Really, I am worried about everyone. Whoever is trying to break into this realm is powerful. If he is not friendly, we are in for troubling times.

We all show our acknowledgement and Tony leaves. I disappear into my room to pack an extra set of clothes and the many weapons Natasha and Clint have acquired for me since our arrival. I braid my long hair and secure it in a bun after changing into clothing more appropriate for wilderness and battle. I carefully secure my necklace beneath my shirt and flex my left hand, reassured by the feeling the ring on my middle finger.

Jane and Erik's instruments are correct; the disturbance has settled on a location. The anomaly's cause is a different threat than what the Avengers have experienced before—a threat stronger than they have faced, if it is a threat, but whether he is alone or backed by a stronger power as Loki was is yet to be determined. In either case, we cannot rely solely on human weapons if we walk into a fight.

In a few minutes, everyone is assembled on the roof. Natasha, Clint, and Maria have gathered the tools of their trade. Steve Rodgers has his Captain America shield. Tony is in his Iron Man suit and Rhodey is in his own suit. Mjolnir dangles from Thor's fingers. Erik, Jane, and Darcy are loading confusing pieces of scientific equipment onto our craft. Erik and I exchange glances and I give him a small smile, reassuring him that I will be his assistant if need be. Thor subtly assists me into the aircraft by my left hand. For a moment his face betrays his surprise, but then he careful resumes a neutral expression. I refrain from chuckling at the whole affair. Thor is far more intelligent than his companions give him credit for. He smiles at me knowingly as he joins me in the craft. No words need to be exchanged. He knows I have my ring, and that is enough for both of us.

We all manage to fit onto the plane-helicopter. I wonder if Tony invented it or if it is some government research project. Its horizontal blades are at the sides instead of the top.

Pepper, Jane, and Darcy wave goodbye from the rooftop as the aircraft rises.

The flight does not seem to take as long as it should. We land in a large open valley and immediately Erik goes to work tracking the disturbance, which is apparently messing with his equipment.

"I don't understand," he complains as the rest of us spread out. "The equipment worked just fine when Thor came, and with the convergence…"

While the others are scouting the area, I walk up to the scientist. "Maybe it is a different kind of disturbance," I suggest, trying to sound casual rather than knowing. "At least you can still track it."

Erik looks at me for a moment, seriously considering my suggestion. He has learned from the past not to ignore my suggestions, whether or not I have a scientific understanding of his work.

Soon we are all following his directions toward the anomaly. The sun is setting behind the mountains already. When we get close, Iron Man tells Erik to return to the ship. We will use the determined directions to go the rest of the way on our own, without putting him in further danger.

As the light continues to fade, we spread out and move forward. I remain farthest in the back, behind Bruce, carefully sensing the presence of my companions and the disturbance in the world in front of me as I creep forward.

The disturbance, whatever it is, is still unstable. Nothing has broken through yet. We set up camp a short distance away, watching the equipment carefully.

It is almost four o'clock in the morning. Everyone is asleep, except for Erik who woke about an hour ago and found that he could not return to sleep. I am surprised anyone is sleeping through Thor and Tony's snoring at all.

I will wake Steve soon to take over my watch. Erik has taken over monitoring the equipment, so I dedicate my senses to the physical world around me. The disturbance has been wavering stronger in the last few hours, putting me on edge.

Suddenly, the feeling of the anomaly in front of me spreads over me and in its overwhelming power I fall to my knees. Whatever was trying to get through just succeeded in opening a portal.

I mentally check on my companions. Everyone is fine. Erik shouts, and I quickly recover and join him in waking our companions. In seconds, we are quietly sneaking towards the site. I feel nothing where the disturbance used to be, and that worries me.

The portal is closed by the time we reach it, but the scarred ground shows that we have arrived. My companions study the ground and find a single set of tracks. Once again they spread out, this time following the trail of the unknown newcomer.

But I stay behind. Someone else came through the portal, even if he left no physical evidence. The familiar presence calls to me. I look around and extend my senses, finding his precise location. I smirk as I find my new destination and sprint quietly toward a thicket of trees. I maneuver myself so I am behind him, and silently step up to his back, extend on my toes and whisper in his ear.

"Loki."

He freezes at the sound of my voice. He is unaccustomed to surprises, I know, but that means nothing more than greater pleasure for me in surprising him.

"Ástriðr." He turns around and faces me with a strangely relieved expression. "I found you."

My eyebrows raise in question, but rustling distracts me from the plethora of thoughts aroused by his mysterious comment. The Avengers are returning sooner than expected.

"They do not know who I am," I quickly admit without bothering to look at him. I draw the dagger from my belt. "They must trust me, and so I must make myself your tentative enemy."

Without further explanation I grasp him by the wrist and pull him into the open clearing and against my dagger. It is not enough to harm him. I doubt the human-made blade would do him damage, but his shirt will probably suffer.

I stare at him, conscious that the expression is more of a glare or scowl as I worry how to act.

"Probably not the wisest person to have a staring contest with," interrupts Tony.

Loki immediately releases my gaze and takes an unconscious half-step back.

I step away from Loki and turn toward the Avengers.

"You might want to fix that hole in your shirt," I make myself snicker as I return my dagger to my belt and walk toward Clint and Natasha.

Clint has too broad a smile on his face, and even Natasha has a hint of a smile pulling at a corner of her lips. Thor looks a little confused. He has never seen Loki and I fight verbally before—we have always kept that carefully hidden from his delicate sensibilities—let alone seen me holding him at knife point. But he has done well with pretending our friendship is new, so he continues our deception and says nothing about Loki's and my interaction. I look at the others, trying not to grimace. My acting is usually sins of omission; it feels wrong to purposefully orchestrate a scene. Thor must feel especially badly. I have always kept secrets about myself, even from him, but he is unaccustomed to keeping my secrets for me.

"What? Did you think Clint was lying when he said I could handle myself?" I continue.

I turn back to Clint as I reach him. "Did you lose the trail?"

"Yes, but it seems you picked it up again."

I shake my head. The disturbances were most definitely the product of a Child of Darkness. "No, the one you were tracking was the portal's creator, he," I jerk my head toward Loki, "probably just followed him through. We still have an unknown guest walking around."

"How do you know?" asks Natasha.

Thor and Loki look at me, distracted from their own staring contest. I shrug uncomfortably.

"I'd tell you to ask Loki, but since he isn't known for telling the truth… Maybe Dr. Selvig will be able to find a different kind of trail where the physical one left off?"

Having, amazingly, successfully defected the attention away from myself, I walk back to our camp to send the scientist back to the Avengers, who are keeping a close eye on the mischief maker, who made sure to glare at me as I left. I suppose Loki does not appreciate me handing him to his enemies only moments after what I assume to be a success for him. But he should know he need not worry. I am here, and so is Thor.

After a quick explanation, I convince Erik to go. He looks doubtful, but I know the lessening of his nightmares since his arrival at the Tower gives him more courage than he would have otherwise had.

I sigh as I lead him towards the others. He has the same tainted feel as Clint—a _Tesseract_-tainted feel. I have do not know what happened, but I can guess. Whatever the cause, I did much the same for Erik in comforting his nightmares as I did Clint.

Of course, he has only spent one night with us and that one here in the wilderness, and our relationship is not conducive to snuggling anyway, so I did nothing more than plant a pleasant dream in place of his nightmare and draw a little of the Tesseract's power out. Encountering Loki should not exacerbate it, except to bring back less than savory memories.

With Erik in tow, I return to the others. Thor takes him to the end of their trail, but the others remain, everyone keeping both eyes on Loki. Clint's rage is beginning to show, but his apprehension does as well. I quietly walk up to Clint and place a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention to me, and hopefully comforting him, if only a small measure.

We all stand there a little awkwardly for a moment that seems much longer than it is.

"Astrid is right," Thor announces loudly as he enters the clearing.

"We cannot track his destination, but the trail ended because he… translocated elsewhere," Erik explains.

"That does not mean he did not translocate back here," Natasha adds, pointedly.

"That's not even logical," I protest under my breath, and look up at Loki.

Because he just said the same thing. I suppress a groan.

"I've never known you to follow our rules of logic," Natasha replies evenly.

It is a lie, though. His actions may be spurred by childish motivation, the consequences too frequently unthought-of, but they always have a logic behind them. One being ignorant of his plans does not make the plan-maker the stupid one.

"Do you think I would go back to where you would return, and where _she_ was waiting to attack?"

He looks at me pointedly. I try to look grateful. He is playing my game. I know he will want an explanation later, but his cooperation is an unexpected blessing.

"He has a point," agrees Thor, unsurprisingly.

Tony groans. "Just put him in something secure and shove him on the plane. It's time to go."

Everyone looks at each other. I sigh. Having Loki around is going to cause a headache, even if it is convenient to keep an eye on him. I have enough secret-keepers running around already.

A few hours and several arguments later, we land on top of Stark Tower with Loki. I sigh as I slide from the pilot's seat.

"I think you need to practice your landings."

I glare at Tony. "I didn't exactly volunteer to be your pilot."

Tony looks at Natasha, who shrugs.

"She was the least likely to fall asleep."

No one is interested in an explanation as they herd Loki off the craft, except Steve who gives Natasha a questioning look. I turn away and head for Erik, who fell asleep in the copilot seat.

"Her bedtime is somewhere around four A.M.," Natasha explains simply as I release the safety belts from around Erik.

"He's still asleep," I interrupt, not interested in explaining my sleep habits.

"I'll carry him inside," offers Thor, speaking more quietly than usual.

I smile, touched by Thor's gentleness toward his friend, but mostly glad that I do not have to do it.

We watch them go inside while the rest of us remain in the cold night air. The others have yet to decide what to do with their prisoner.

"Put him in the Tank tonight," Tony decides, and Steve nods his agreement. "We'll formulate an exact plan when we've all rested in the morning." He looks at me. "Guards might be a good idea, though. Astrid, you first, since you're accustomed to staying up late." I say nothing about his sudden acceptance of me as he turns to Steve. "Cap, you take over in the morning since you get up early anyway."

Steve nods his head, but I give no sign of acknowledgement. "Come on. Don't leave them standing in the cold all night." I snap my fingers as I walk towards the door.

Loki mumbles a protest but follows.

"JARVIS, where is this 'tank' Mr. Stark was speaking of?"

There is a moment of silence before it—he—replies, "In the basement, Miss Quimby."

I press the elevator's down arrow and look behind me to make sure Loki is approaching. When the doors open, he looks at the elevator a bit apprehensively, but he follows me inside anyway.


	4. Chapter 3: Advocate

A/N:

Please review with suggestions, edits, things I've done well, what you want to see, etc. Like I said before, I don't have an editor so sometimes I get lost in my own head!

**I hate to ask you to reread old chapters, but I did do some remaking of the beginning of the story, significant enough that it warrants rereading, so if you read the original posting of the story, please reread it from the beginning. Sorry!**

Here is the new and improved chapter three:

Chapter Three

Advocate

The elevator emits a soft chime as the doors open to a blinding whiteness.

There is a single opening in the hallway, other than the two distant ends that appear to lead to parallel halls of similar color. The opening is closed with glass doors, which reveal a small white room. A second set of glass doors in the far wall reveal only more whiteness, but there are openings both right and left once I step through. A quick glance tells me that left is the correct direction.

A room with several large, StarkTech-equipped desks, a simple cot, a kitchenette, a sofa, and a gigantic television stands in front of a glass wall that reveals a simple prison cell. The cell's walls are a shade darker, the room empty except for a second cot and a partition I assume hides a toilet. The walls appear to be padded.

I hesitate in the room, feeling uncomfortable with my task. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, assured by Loki's distant presence. He is attempting to neither run away nor assault me.

Satisfied, I open my eyes and turn to Loki, restrained in a straight-jacket-like implement. His expression is almost pained. I have seen that expression before.

Once before. It was more prominent then than now, so that is somewhat reassuring.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, glancing around the room. We are not truly alone.

Apparently Loki has surmised the truth, because I feel a familiar tingle pass through me. I look up at him with eyebrows knit.

"An illusion," he explains. "We can talk freely now. They think you are putting me in the 'Tank.'"

I nod my understanding before watching him carefully for a moment. The pain in his eyes is not as evident, but I wonder if he is hiding it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replies quickly.

"Loki," I chastise. "Don't lie to me. _Never_ lie to me." I look at him sternly.

He casts his eyes to the ground like a reprimanded child. It is an expression I have seen rarely, and I feel immediately guilty for inducing it in him. Something is wrong, but I will have to investigate later.

"Loki," I sigh, "I'm sorry. But you should know better." I pause. "Are you in pain? Is it like the time when I ran away to Asgard?"

"It is somewhat less than that," he assures me. "Your mother never spoke of this, Ásta." His tone is almost accusatory.

I allow myself a half-smile. My mother was a brilliant politician. She could masterfully manipulate almost anyone without actually lying. Her skill in omitting the truth was far more developed than Loki's.

"She probably did not know," I reply, "She did warn me that it would be overwhelming when it came out of its dormant state, but that it would pass. Perhaps a lesser version happens after long absence."

I shrug in an unladylike fashion and Loki raises a single eyebrow. I smile slightly and consider shrugging again in reply, if only to irk him. I sigh instead.

"The… _spell_ is not very well understood, and I had little study under my own people anyway. So I can only make a moderately educated guess," I explain.

He looks at me, his eyes now unreadable. I resist shuddering under his gaze.

"If you are alright, we should get you into the… cell and let the illusion fall, in case someone comes down."

He nods and lets me undo the straight jacket before letting himself into the Tank. I shut the door behind him and the locks automatically engage, but I do not feel the absence of Loki's sorcery.

"How did you insert yourself among them if they do not know who you are?"

I look at Loki, surprised at the sudden change of topic. That must be why he retained the illusion.

"I suppose it was more of a coincidence than anything, but one I took advantage of."

He studies my face as if he does not believe me.

"Please keep my identity secret. Everything," I add.

Loki raises an eyebrow.

"They know _nothing_ of me, except that I am a more skilled fighter than the average human. Although I am here with hopes to protect them from the consequences of involving themselves in affairs that are not their own, they will be in even more danger if their ignorance of my identity is eliminated. Please, Loki. You of all people have a greater understanding of my need. Even Thor and Erik are lying for me."

"Erik?"

I glare at him. "Dr. Selvig. Do not act surprised. You felt my mark upon him when you bid him do your will, even if the power by which you did so was not your own." I am bluffing somewhat; I do not know the details. My sight is perfect in the present, but that requires constant watching—something I am not inclined to do. Seeking the past is more difficult and intrusive; I did not want to do so without Erik's permission.

Judging from Loki's facial expression, my supposition was correct.

"A human who has touched the mind of a goddess is forever changed," he smirks, "but I gave him something better."

I stare at him in disbelief and silently curse my ignorance of the transpirations since my absence. I know inquiry will only lead to argument at this time, so I change the direction of the conversation back to its original intent.

"Please, Loki, keep my secret."

He tilts his head as if considering.

"You," he eventually says, the familiar smirk returning to his face, "the goddess of truth, wants me to _lie_?"

I look at him sternly. "Do not bestow on me titles I do not own. Like most things in all the universes, there is no absolute when it comes to deceit. Sometimes something, such as life, is more important than truth. I could not save them from the knowledge of this 'intruder' as they call him, but their ignorance may save them from becoming entangled in the accusations against me."

"Or, like your mother and mine, they may become your allies."

I stare at my dark-haired companion in disbelief. "Is Loki Silvertongue trying to convince me to _tell the truth_?" I ask in incredulity.

I tilt my head and study him. He is, of course, a liar when he thinks he needs to be, but like mine his sins are of omission rather than commission most if the time. In either case, he deceives for his own benefit. Why would he lie for anyone else? He has done so for me until now, but I am almost certain his actions were fueled by curiosity. It is one of his pleasures to watch from the shadows. He had no reason to interfere. But if he needs, or wants, something, my secret is enough to bribe me with. Or perhaps he needs a way to earn this company's trust for his purposes and will sacrifice my secrets to prove himself. Longstanding acquaintanceship guarantees no favors from him.

"I will keep your secret, Ásta," he almost whispers.

I want to narrow my eyes at him and study him doubtfully—I cannot believe him—bit I refrain from doing so in hopes that a display of faith will help solidify his decision. If he had said it when we first me, I would have instantaneously and haughtily believed him to be obedient, but I have come to know him better since then, and both of us have changed since our last encounter.

Loki decides our conversation is over; I feel the absence of his illusion and know we are once again being watched.

We pass the several remaining hours in silence. I am not in a mood for talking. Actually, I am too tired to be guarded about what I say. It was dangerous enough associating with Erik and Thor as if we had never met before, and now I have another previous acquaintance to worry about. Of course, he is a much better liar than those two, so if he decides to continue his cooperation, it will be _me_ who is likely to mess up. And he is an excellent illusionist, so it will be simpler to hide if I need to have an honest conversation, but, honestly, I am not sure if sorcery is enough to defeat technology or Tony's genius.

Finally, at four-thirty in the morning, the elevator distantly chimes its arrival. I rise from my night-long positon on the chair to meet my replacement.

"Astrid," Steve greets, entering the guard room.

"Steve," I mumble, pretending to stifle a yawn. "Have fun. I'm going to bed."

"Come back down at nine if you can manage. Stark wants to gather what information the reindeer," (I snort) "will divulge and then decide what to do with him. He wants you there."

I shake my head. "Please don't pick up any of Tony's other habits." I pat Steve's shoulder. Demeaning nicknames do no suit him.

I sigh in relief once the elevator begins moving upwards.

"JARVIS, are Clint and Natasha at the apartment?"

"No, Miss Quimby, they just left to go to the gym."

So they'll be gone for at least an hour.

I walk into the apartment and sit on a sofa and close my eyes, drifting easily into meditation. An image ripples into view behind my eyelids. Darkness punctuated by suns and solar systems and galaxies and stardust. It is breathtakingly beautiful. Nothing seems out of place as it did in the days leading up to the portal tearing through. The intruder is not prodding anymore. He, or she, is on Earth and intended to be.

I sigh. The residue of power is one unfamiliar to Erik's equipment. It is not like Loki's sorcery or Thor's powers with Mjolnir or the Tesseract or any of the advanced science of Asgard. They can only detect it by the interference it causes, and now that the greatest task—coming to Earth—has been accomplished, the intruder might not use power strong enough to cause ripples.

The Avengers will be blind in their search.

But Loki tracked him, and from the other side. His methods may have been similar, though, so he might not be able to follow him anymore either.

I watch the image in meditation, seeing more than what it shows, for hours. Finally I open my eyes. Natasha and Clint did not return after their time in the gym. It is almost nine. I rise and change my clothes—I was stilling wearing my clothes from last night's "mission"—before heading downstairs.

"Take me to the others, JARVIS," I instruct as I enter the elevator.

"Yes, Miss Quimby."

The elevator chimes to announce its arrival in the basement and I step through the doors.

When I arrive Thor and Loki are having a staring contest.

"I see staring contests are popular these days," I comment as I put my hand on Clint's shoulder and lean against him with feigned tiredness.

"Apparently Thor thought Loki was dead, and so they had a… tiff this morning," explains Steve on my other side.

I look over at him, trying to hide a knowing smile. How many times will Loki not-die before no one is surprised? But whether or not Thor believed him, it will lead to issues between the brothers. I have yet to sit down with anyone to learn exactly what happened on Asgard after I left, or the details surrounding the battle here a few years ago, but I am beginning to think that I cannot remain in ignorance.

"Thor, if you are done, everyone is assembled."

Thor looks at the speaker—Tony—sharply, but Loki looks directly at me. I narrow my eyes at him.

"Loki," Tony continues, ignoring Thor's glare, "what were you doing near that portal?"

"Like _she_ suggested, I was tracking the same thing you were."

Do you have to drag me into this, Loki? I refrain from sighing. I have gained many unladylike habits in this realm, I realize.

"Why? Is he your friend or enemy?" Thor questions.

"I don't have friends."

"Who is he?" Thor tries.

Loki glances at me almost unnoticeably.

'_Tell the truth,'_ I sigh mentally.

"He is a member of the same universe I fell to."

"Chitauri?" Tony quickly questions.

"No," answers Loki succinctly.

Thor waits for him to expound.

"He is of a race that refers to themselves as the Children of Darkness," Loki explains, exasperated and knowing that the information will do them little good.

"Is he a bad guy or good guy?" Clint decides to join the interrogation, the dubious expression on his face reflecting the others'. I suppose 'Children of Darkness' is not an appealing title to humans who generally give darkness a negative connotation.

"I doubt he intends humanity any harm, though if any of them get in the way of his objective, they will make themselves his enemy."

"What is his objective?"

"That is a question I do not have the answer to."

"Then why were you tracking him?" asks Natasha in disbelief.

"Because he is a Child of Darkness."

"And why does that make him of interest to you?" Thor inquires slowly.

"I am looking for a Child of Darkness. They are not easy to track—nearly impossible, truly—but I had determined that the one I searched for was not in their kingdom. In searching the others, he made the most… noise, for lack of a term you can understand."

Steve does not trust Loki, and is growing impatient with his better-than-thou attitude.

'_Be succinct,'_ I instruct silently.

"Be assured that I do not know of any intention of his to harm this realm or its inhabitants. And the reason I followed him has nothing to do with your realm, either."

Tony looks at Erik and then turns back to Loki.

"Can you still track him?"

Loki looks at me and I raise my eyebrows.

'_No.'_

So Loki cannot track him, as I feared. It is truly none of their concern where this Child of Darkness goes, but they do not know that. They want to assure the safety of their world. Can I manage to reassure them without revealing my identity? If there is any possibility of that, I need to work through Loki.

I nod my head, barely perceptibly.

"Yes," replies Loki, now looking at Tony.

Tony looks at Thor, who is clearly conflicted about trusting his brother again.

"Will you help us track him down, brother?"

Loki looks at Thor. "Why should I?"

I suppress a smile. Loki has already decided to help.

"So we won't kill you… as quickly," growls Clint.

I squeeze his shoulder and look at him, concerned. He had no one to comfort his nightmares last night.

Loki looks at Clint with steely eyes.

"You already had reason to track him," Natasha points out. It is an invalid argument; Loki has no reason to track him anymore because Loki knows he is not who he was looking for.

Loki shifts his gaze to her. I roll my eyes. Just get this over with already.

"If you allow me a little freedom. This cage is rather… oppressing."

"We could always use handcuffs again," inputs Jane. "What?" She looks at Thor. "It worked well enough last time."

"When he feigned death?"

There they go again. "I'm going upstairs before someone hits the repeat button again," I announce quietly and return to the elevator.

%%%

"You ever wear color?"

"This skirt is purple."

"It's so dark I can't tell."

"Does it matter?" I ask, finally looking up from my book. "What do you need, Tony?"

"They finally came to an agreement. Loki'll help in exchange for a bit of freedom. Of course no one thought it wise to leave him unattended."

"Thank you for telling me?"

"Thor volunteered," Tony continued, "but we thought he might be too soft on him. And the rest of us… well, we would all like to kill him. I suggested Darcy, as she seems to be able to take his nonsense without killing or giving in to him, but Thor was against the idea."

I sigh. Now I know where this is going. I will not be surprised to find out Loki manipulated them into it. But I do not care, for he is playing into my hands as much as they are playing into his. "So process of elimination led you to me?"

Tony nods.

"Alright. What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Make sure he's always supervised. Most of the time that'll be you. For now he'll spend nights in the Tank but be allowed out during the day. If he doesn't annoy me too much, I might fulfill his wish to have a proper bed."

I raise my eyebrows. Why does Loki care about the state of his bed? He can manage without sleep.

I look at the clock. "When does this begin?"

"Thor's bringing him up now."

"Having him in Clint's apartment is unwise."

"Then you can go to Thor's."

"Isn't Dr. Selvig there? That is also unwise."

"Having him in anyone's apartment is unwise," counters Tony, but he thinks of a solution quickly. "We'll take him to the lab for now. Might as well put his end of the deal to use. I'll give you the keys to your own apartment to escape to if it looks like someone wants to kill him."

I consider the idea for a moment. "I suppose that is the only option," I allow. "Aren't you afraid he will annoy me into murder? Or that he will take advantage of my constant presence to turn me against you?"

Tony looks at me for a moment before shaking his head. "When I told you he was not the best person to have a staring contest with, I noticed it was Loki who reacted. Whatever you said to him, or whatever look he saw in your eyes, he was afraid of you, even if he didn't know it. You can keep him in line."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised that he noticed and even thought about Loki's reaction that night, but even more surprised that he is not questioning why. The door opens, interrupting my thoughts. Thor walks in, followed closely by his brother, who is pretending to look uninterested.

"To the lab, Thor. Loki has to live up to his end of the deal," I repeat Tony's earlier words.

Thor nods and lets me pass by him, Loki turning to follow me.

"Coming, Mr. Stark?"

He shakes his head. "It's not really my area of expertise. I just lent them the computers."

The elevator door shuts, leaving Tony in the doorway of Clint's apartment, Thor peering over his shoulder.

"Well this is going to be fun."

'_You never told me how you came to join them,'_ Loki speaks into my mind.

I suppress a grimace at the unwelcome sensation. _'I didn't. I just brought Natasha here, and Tony asked me to stay.'_

The elevator chimes, announcing our arrival. The journey seems longer than it should have been.

"I've brought your GPS unit," I announce, nodding my head toward Loki, though of course _I_ am the true tracker.

"I see you agreed to warden duty," comments Jane.

"Unfortunately I don't have an overprotective prince of Asgard to talk them out of it so, yes, I had to agree to babysit." Loki throws me a nasty look, but I am unsure if it is about the prince of Asgard comment or babysitting.

"I'm surprised Clint didn't protest," she comments, alluding to our sibling-like relationship.

"He knows I can take care of myself," I dismiss. "We are both adults. He makes his decisions and I make mine." I shrug. "What are you guys working on?"

I keep Loki in my peripheral vision as he observes the lab. Erik is more apprehensive of his presence now than when Loki was in the Tank, but he is taking it better than I anticipated. It seems Erik's quirkiness is not entirely without use.

Jane answers. "We are trying to find possible anomalies using various organizations' data. That is how Erik found the one in the Rockies, though something like that has to be confirmed at a closer proximity with our own instruments."

"Anything?"

"Nothing so far, but we were hoping our visitor could change that," Darcy answers, leaning back in a chair. "Yo, crazy boy—"

"It is probably best not to antagonize him, Miss Lewis, all things considered."

Darcy looks doubtfully at Loki. Why didn't they make _her_ his warden? Probably because she would annoy him into death or murder within five minutes.

"Loki," I urge.

"Yes, Ástriðr?"

I glare at him.

"Astrid," he corrects, losing his accent with a look of disgust on his face, as if the word were poison. "What does my _babysitter_ request?"

"You have to hold up your end of the deal," I explain.

He looks at me. _'You mean you have to pay my bail_,' he reminds me as he walks toward the large computer display.

'_I could have let you rot in that cell, or let them kill you since you have no usefulness to them.'_

'_They would not have succeeded.'_

'_No, no they wouldn't.' _Because orchestrating his death is—was—my job. I look at the screens. _'I see nothing in their data, and I see nothing when looking at the universe. I will have to observe this realm closely, or perhaps extend my senses out from here. Go up to the screen and touch it,'_ I instruct, looking at the large glass display.

Loki follows my orders. Under his touch the display changes to reveal a view similar to what I put on the glass wall this morning. The beautiful universe spreads before us and Darcy, Jane, and Erik gasp. Loki looks at me. He has seen it before. It is similar to what Heimdall sees at the edge of the bifrost.

Loki genuinely watches the image, seeing, as I do, beyond the image itself. He cannot see the Children of Darkness as I can, but he can see the ripples their power causes. I see nothing out of order. The Child of Darkness has hidden himself from my sight, as he did before. That is worrisome because it evidences his power—great power. The image slowly changes, drawing closer to this realm. The portal's tear is already healed and I neither feel nor see evidence of the intruder's power. If there was evidence of his translocation then, there is not now.

'_The trail has faded. He is not manifesting himself by the use of power now. It might not be possible to catch him unless there is a constant monitoring. Do you think we could modify their equipment to pick up on the interference, like it did before, but more sensitively?'_

"I see nothing," Loki announces. "If there ever was a trail, it is gone now. I can only see him if he uses his power."

"How quickly does it fade?" Jane asks worriedly. "If the evidence disappears that fast, how will we find him?"

"You found him before," I remind her.

"Ripping a portal into this realm required a great amount of power, and of course interfered with this realm's flow. That is how you became aware of the _anomaly_, as you call it—not by the rock dropped in the pond, but by the ripples it caused. If you fine tune your equipment, you may be able to perceive lesser uses of his power, though you will still be limited in range," Loki explains impatiently.

Erik nods, solemn for once.

Jane is the first to speak. "So, we will do what we can. Keep an eye on the news, improve our equipment, monitor the other organizations' data, and have you check up on things every day or something."

Loki looks at her emotionlessly.

"Sounds like a plan," I finalize. Erik is restless now that there seems to be nothing more for Loki to do. "I think we'll take our leave now," I announce as I let the image fall from the screens.

"Miss Quimby, your apartment has been prepared," announces JARVIS as the elevator doors close.

That was fast. "Take us there then."


End file.
